Bagel Hockey
by singsongsung
Summary: No. 30. Rory/Logan. Tristan's POV.


**Bagel Hockey**

**A/N: ** Um, yeah. I do not even know where this came from, but here it is. Angst, and so much of it, I'm sorry. I'm still beta-less so possible grammatical errors and such. It's the latest fic to date in the series, told differently, from Tristan's point of view. And yes, I do know that his name is actually, technically spelled Tristin in the show, but that spelling irritates me. So. Review please and read on.

"Tristan! Honey, hi."

I sighed. I called my mother every single Tuesday night at seven, but she always sounded sickeningly happy to hear from me. "Mom," I replied. There was just no way that she was ever _actually_ happy to hear from me.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Then she gasped. "Oh, sweetheart, you've heard. You'll come back, right?"

"For _what_, Mother?"

She sighed. "Tristan. Honey. May I remind you that you called me? I thought that meant that you wanted to talk."

I sighed, too. "Sorry, Mother."

"I suppose you haven't heard, then. Well, sweetheart, we have a funeral to go to on Friday night. You'll come home, right?"

"Whose funeral?" I asked.

"Um…I can't remember the name right now, honey, but you really should come."

"Mom, how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Nothing at all, Tristan," she said, anger hidden beneath the sweetness of her tone. "It's just slipped my mind."

I sighed deeply. "I'll be home Friday afternoon."

"That's my wonderful son. I'll see you then, sweetheart."

I arrived at Hartford International Airport at 4:45. A car was waiting for me, and I drove home, thinking about nothing, barely listening to the radio.

"My darling!" Mom called happily when she saw me. "Come in and rest, we have to be there at quarter to seven. You did bring that black suit I got you last year, didn't you?"

"Yes, Mom. Whose funeral is this, again?" I pretended to have forgotten. That way, I could avoid any anger. I spotted a bottle of wine, almost empty, sitting open on the coffee table.

I'd calculated corrected. Mom threw back her head and laughed. "Sweetheart, if you can't remember, how should I? You probably have no idea who it is, but pretend to be devastated, understand? The family's a wreck, I hear." She shook her head. "Horrible thing."

"What, death?"

Mom shook her head, still smiling. "Death's inevitable, honey. It's sadness that's horrible."

We were five minutes earlier than we thought we'd be. Mom rushed over to a woman and said, "Oh, Emily. I'm so sorry."

The weeping woman dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. "This is the most horrible thing that's ever happened to me, Elizabeth."

"Oh, Emily, I know. How horrible." Mom embraced her again.

"And Lorelai's just…" Emily closed her eyes, unable to continue.

But the name caught my interest. "Lorelai?" I asked softly, my chest tightening ever-so-slightly.

Emily opened her eyes. "My daughter," she said softly.

"Emily, this is my son, Tristan. You haven't seen each other in years."

"I'm sorry that it's such a sad occasion for this meeting," I said. Years of Hartford breeding were beginning to pay off now that I was older.

Emily studied my face. "I remember you. Tristan DuGrey. You went to school with her, didn't you?"

"With…?"

"With Rory," she said, as if it was obvious, and my heart slammed into my ribs and broke.

"Oh my god," I breathed.

"Tristan?" I heard Mom say softly, but I ignored her. I walked into the room slowly.

There was a casket at the front. Of course. And then I saw her. Lorelai Gilmore, sobbing in the arms of some guy. And I knew. I knew for sure.

"Oh my god," I said again. I stumbled, almost blindly, to the front of the room. A little girl, who had her face buried in some guy's shoulder, looked up at me. She had the bluest fucking eyes I'd ever seen. Rory's eyes.

I took the last couple steps forward. And there she was. Different hair style, same basic features. A diamond ring on her ring finger, and it clicked. The little girl was her daughter. The man holding her was her husband.

I turned around and looked at his red-rimmed eyes. "Sorry for your loss," I choked out.

He nodded tiredly. "Do I know you?"

"Tristan DuGrey," I said instead of answering his question.

A small smile made appeared on his face, surprising me. "DuGrey, huh?" he asked.

Lorelai turned at that. "Bible Boy?" she asked, teary eyes surprised.

"Lovely as always, Lorelai. I'm so sorry."

And, surprising the hell out of me, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. "Oh, God, Tristan…" she didn't have anything else to say. There was nothing else to say, and we both knew it.

I swallowed painfully. "What…what happened?"

"Fucking drunk driver," Lorelai said harshly, anger obvious behind the tears in her eyes.

"Lorelai," Logan said gently, tilting his head toward the girl in his arms.

Lorelai winced and gently ran her fingers through the little girl's hair. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, I said a bad word. Don't repeat that, okay?"

She nodded solemnly. "'Kay, Oma," she whispered. God, how old was she? She looked about six.

There was a little boy pressed to Lorelai's side, I realized. I hadn't seen him before. He looked about ten, and when he caught my gaze, he said, "Hi." He had her eyes, too.

"Hey there."

"Tristan, I'd like you to meet Lucas, my grandson. And Lory, my granddaughter," Lorelai said, gesturing to the little girl in Logan's arms. "And…" gently, she pulled two kids toward her, away from the other side of the man I assumed was her husband. "These are my kids, William and Emma."

Will looked fifteen of sixteen; Emma twelve or thirteen. His eyes were deep and pained, and hers were rimmed with red. "Who're you?" she asked, her older sister's innocent, hesitant confidence exuding from her.

I held out my hand to her. "My name's Tristan. I knew your sister in high school."

Her eyes lit up, and I realized that, if she had been a couple years older, I could have been looking at the girl I'd called Mary once upon a time. "_Ohh. _You're the bane of her existence."

I nodded, swallowing thickly. "You could say that."

She gave me a tiny smile. "I think she'd be happy that you came."

I smiled back. "Thank you, Em."

"Oh," Lorelai said, as if coming out of a daze. "I'm sorry. And this is my husband, Luke."

"Maker of the famous coffee, of course. Hi. I'm so sorry."

He nodded, and I realized that he was grieving- badly. I could see it in his tense facial muscles. Rory had talked about him a lot, and I suspected that he'd been closer to her than her true father. Speaking of… "Where is Christopher?" I questioned.

Lorelai nodded to the right. He was talking to Emily, and there was a sixteen-year-old girl standing next to him.

"His daughter," Lorelai said, answering my unasked question. "Georgia." All of a sudden, she gasped and pressed her hands to her face. Her shoulders crept upwards and it was obvious that she was trying not to break down. Luke put a comforting arm around her and pulled her toward him. Emma looked away as though she couldn't bear it, and Logan buried his face in Lory's hair.

Lorelai seemed to collect herself and she wiped at her eyes quickly. "It should be starting soon. Let's sit. Okay, Lukey, you can sit here between me and your dad."

I moved back a row as they all sat down. Will sat at one end, then Emma, Luke, and Lorelai. Lucas was sitting on her other side, then Logan with Lory in his lap. Christopher and Georgia joined them. When Emily arrived, she went to sit on the end, but Lorelai said, "No, Mom…come sit here," motioning to the space between herself and Lucas.

When the service began, Lorelai choked up once more, and Emily placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. This time, though, Lorelai lost it. She sobbed heavily and painfully, murmuring things like "no" and "my baby". Luke and Emily comforted her as best as they could, considering the situation.

When it was time for the eulogy, I expected Lorelai to stand, and if not her, Logan. But, to my surprise, Luke stood up and walked to the front.

"Rory," he said simply. "Rory was…Rory was one of the smartest kids I'd ever met. I never really liked kids when I was younger, but she looked at me with those eyes and that smile and charmed me completely. She was much less annoying than her mother, in any case." He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking a little uncomfortable up there in his suit. "Some of you might be surprised to see me up here. I understand that you'd be expecting Lorelai, but it's a little too much for her right now. Or Logan. Lorelai told me that she thought I should speak because Rory would've wanted it." He paused. "You all knew her. How beautiful she was, how smart she was, how funny she was…all of you knew that. I could never really describe her to you because she was…Rory. I remember lots of things, lots of moments…when she was twelve she invented bagel hockey with Lorelai, and I remember her telling Lorelai that they should remove the rule that stated: You must have successfully annoyed Luke as well as scored the most goals in order to win the game." There was a soft murmur of muted laughter. "I remember when she was sixteen and I baked her a coffee cake for her birthday, and the way she laughed when she'd seen that I blew up balloons. I remember the way she looked at me at our wedding, mine and Lorelai's. She just smiled, and I knew she was happy. And most of all, I remember when she had her first baby…I remember Lorelai coming out of the delivery room with tears in her eyes, saying, 'She named him Lucas'." He sighed. "She was, in so many ways, everything to a lot of people. To me, she was my daughter, even if we never formally acknowledged it. I'll miss her." He sighed. "We all will."

I felt tears sting at my eyes and I didn't know why.

Her coffin was carried to the graveyard and lowered slowly and steadily. Lorelai buried herself in Luke's arms, unable to watch. I heard Logan sigh, "You did break me, Ace," as it finally hit the bottom. I didn't know what he meant, but the agony in his words was almost tangible.

After everything, Logan handed Lory to Luke. "I'll be back in a few, okay, angel eyes?" he asked quietly, and I smiled at the nickname- I must have been getting soft, I thought it was adorable. (Because she had her mother's eyes, and I'll be damned if they weren't angelic.)

Logan turned to me and gestured to the door. "Want to go for a walk?"

I just nodded, and off we went, wandering aimlessly amongst the gravestones. It was morbid, but it didn't matter.

"She mentioned you a couple times. She'd be glad you came."

"I'm glad I'm here. I didn't even know…"

He waved it away. "It's okay."

I sighed, unsure of what to say. "I really am so sorry. I know those are pointless, stupid words, but…"

"Yeah. I know. Thank you."

I nodded again. "She was…magnificent. You're a lucky guy."

He nodded, too. "I know. God, I know. I was lucky to have her for the time that I…did."

"Your kids are beautiful."

His lips twitched into a smile for the briefest of seconds. "Thank you." We were quiet for a moment when he said, "We should have had three kids, really. Three years ago, she miscarried. It was a girl. She never completely got over it." He scuffed the ground with his shoe. "She was a great mom." His breath caught in his throat and he made a choking sound. He wiped at his eyes hastily and I read a single gravestone to give him a moment of privacy. "I loved her more than anything…" he muttered. "Through all the stupid fights we had…she was…God, she was so…she was everything to me, like Luke said. She gave me happiness and two wonderful kids and good advice and…so much more." He shook his head. "I just can't comprehend that she's not coming back."

I nodded sympathetically and just allowed it to be silent for a good five minutes. Finally, I spoke up: "Did she hate me?" It's a question I have to ask.

He smiled softly. "No. No, she didn't."

"I know this is her funeral and everything and you're going to think I'm an asshole, but can you put my mind at ease about one more thing?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

I shifted uneasily. "Was she good in bed?"

Thankfully, he grinned at me for a second. "Spectacular."

I nod affirmatively. "That's what I always thought."

He shook his head fondly, clearly lost in a memory of some sort. When he came back to the present, he said, "You can keep in touch, you know. I think Lukey and Lor would like that."

"I just might," I agreed.

"Thanks again for coming. Letting me babble to you."

"I'm sure you know that after Rory your babbling is pathetic."

He smiled softly again. "Believe me, I do."

"Hang in there," I told him seriously. "It's what she'd want."

"Logan!" called a voice. "Hey, mate. Are you ready for the wake?" I looked over to see a brown-haired Australian with red-rimmed eyes.

"Yeah, Finn, I'm coming." He turned back to me. "I'll see you?"

"Probably. Tell Lorelai I say bye?"

"Yeah, sure. You're not coming to the wake?"

"I can't," I said bluntly. "I need some time to…absorb this."

He nodded. "Thanks again. Bye." He walked off, his head down and his steps slow.

My Mary. My girl. Married, with kids, and…gone. Suddenly, it overwhelmed me, and I couldn't breathe. I started walking, as quickly as I could, gasping as I tried to force air into my lungs. I went back into the church. It was filled with sunflowers, which struck me as odd but very much Rory. The church was completely empty, so I didn't have to hide the fact that I grabbed a Bible and took it back outside with me. I pulled a pen out of my pocket and scrawled on the inside cover (writing on a Bible was probably a sin, but that didn't matter to me): _You'll always be my Mary._ I placed it on the stone of her grave amidst all the flowers, and I could see the sparkle in her eyes when she yelled at me.

**A/N: **Please, pretty please, do not kill me. _But_ if you are tempted to kill me, you know what you could do? REVIEW!!!


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